"Cease, boy!--I will hear no excuses. There can be no excuse for the men I command to fight amongst themselves. Had this breach of discipline occurred in face of the enemy I would surely have sent ye back to your homes--disgraced esquires. Now ye shall spend the rest of the day and night in the guard chamber, to meditate upon my words and your own folly; and for two weeks more the sentinel at the gate will have orders to refuse you exit. Dost understand?" The three esquires murmured assent. "Then, Geoffrey, remove the prisoners, and see that my commands are obeyed." The three esquires were marched back to their cell, gloomy and cast down. Sir John’s words and the sentence had sounded the death knell of all their hopes of becoming Sir John’s esquire and accompanying him to the wars, and Aymery and Roland, at least, felt with bitter certainty that it was their own cruelty and overbearing conduct they had to thank for it. In their distress of mind a truce was patched up between the three esquires, and though Edgar could not yet forget the others’ cruelty to poor Peter, and they could not so soon forget their heavy defeat, they tacitly agreed to let the matter rest and to be as friendly as they could. At the end of the fortnight of confinement within the precincts of the castle Sir John sent for Edgar. Wondering what the summons might mean, coming so close upon his disgrace, Edgar made speed to obey. "This quarrel of thine," began Sir John abruptly, though in a not unkindly tone; "I have made enquiries, and I am not disposed to make too much of thy mischance. Perhaps, even, I may think that thou didst not altogether ill to break my rules and to defend the lad. Geoffrey hath told me how it came about that thou didst save the lad at peril of thine own life, and doubtless ’twould be too hard to expect thee to hold thy peace when thy comrades were mishandling him." Sir John paused for a moment and looked at him thoughtfully, and Edgar, thinking something required of him, murmured: "Thank you, Sir John." "But how didst come to learn that trick with the sword that hath set thy comrades wondering?" went on the knight in a brisker tone. "I mean that catch of thy weapon that tore Roland’s from his grasp?" "’Twas learned at Gaspard’s, Sir John." "Gaspard’s? And who is Gaspard?" "He is the founder of a school of arms in London town to which I have been going twice in every week. I thought perhaps Geoffrey had told thee that it was on the return from one of my visits to Gaspard’s that I rescued Peter." "Ha, yes! He did mention it, but I paid no heed. Didst not then feel satisfied with Sir Percy’s teaching?" "Yes, sir; but after a time I thought that I might learn more, and might obtain a knowledge of more varied forms of attack and defence, did I seek other practices."